BattleScarred
by Rivers-Collette
Summary: COMPLETE.  A short piece about the youngest of the six.  Back on Earth, how does the Barbarian explain an injury from the Realm?  Written for the Dungeons & Dragons 2010 Summer Challenge for fun.


**Battle-Scarred **

Discarded soda cans lay crumpled and scattered on the ground. The sun had set hours ago leaving the camp fire flames as their only light. The conversation was fast and fun. Each of the boys good-naturedly trying to out-do each others stories with something braver, smarter or funnier and in turn, trying to impress their respective girlfriends that sat with them.

"Seriously, that's how it happened. I spent two days in hospital and had thirty-two stitches," the oldest boy said. "There was heaps of blood." He added as an afterthought.

"Are you for real?" another one asked sceptically.

The older boy grinned and rolled up the right leg of his trousers to reveal a thick white scar across his knee, the result of falling off a roof and onto a glass topped conservatory. It certainly looked worthy of all those stitches.

A discussion broke out amongst them as to how this tale of injury rated on a scale of one to ten and it was decided that this was the most impressive injury yet.

One boy in the group had said very little so far. "Your turn now," he was told. "How did you get that one?" Someone pointed to the boy's forearm, the scar just visible in the firelight.

Bobby looked down and ran a finger thoughtfully over the pale white mark remembering. On rare occasions he found himself wondering whether it was a dream, that his time in the Realm wasn't real, hadn't happened, but then he'd only have to glance down at his scar and it would all come flooding back. Such a tidal wave of memories, that once he started remembering something, he couldn't stop. He could see it all in his mind's eye as if it were yesterday. Venger. Dungeon Master. And obviously Uni.

Of course, his time there had made him who he was today. Some of it had even worked to his advantage. He'd become a pretty fast runner, which had not gone unnoticed by the scouts at high-school football games. Being so used to running from the various dangers that the Realm had thrown at them, he now attended college on a football scholarship playing for the Boston Barbarians (an irony that was not lost on him). Sometimes depending on his mood he thought it was funny. Other times he felt angry that he was again carrying the same title given to him all those years ago. But as Sheila had pointed out when he received the offer and had voiced his opinions to her, he didn't have to accept the offer. This time he had a choice. Her comments had stuck with him and although he had accepted the scholarship and was a Barbarian again, it was on his terms and a million miles away from what had been required of him in the Realm. Even Eric had joked that at least the job description didn't require a Club this time.

"Rob, c'mon," another guy pressed. "What did you do to get that scar?"

Bobby, or Rob, as he was known as on campus looked into the flames and ran a hand through his longish dark-blond hair.

How? He thought quickly. How do you tell your college friends that the childhood injury in question was caused by being bitten by a poisonous Water Dragon from another Realm?

The truth? No way. Besides, some of the moments of this particular incident were vague. He remembered how it had started with Diana trying to catch them something for lunch after his and Eric's failed attempt to provide something. He remembered the sheer size of the Water Dragon and how he'd felt no fear, just a familiar thrill when the chance arose to use his club. The bite had hurt a little, but he'd brushed it off as just a scratch as he watched the monster retreating into the water. Then the nausea hit him. After that he couldn't remember much of anything, it was all a bit fuzzy as he had spent most of the day going in and out of consciousness. Obviously the others had told him exactly what had happened and their own efforts to bring him the cure, but it was weird not really knowing all that had taken place.

What should he tell his friends? _How_ could he tell them? What would they say?

A hand reached over through the semi-darkness and held his. He squeezed it back gently. Terri, who had been there for a brief amount of time with him, understood. She got it. She _knew_.

"Just a fishing accident," he told the group with a casual shrug. "No big deal".

It was a half-truth at least.


End file.
